


Interstellar Turbulence

by Abra_ca_fuck_you



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: (Or is it finding family?), Diego is a dramatic gay and I Am Too, Drinking, Found Family, I can't believe no ones written anything for this juicy love triangle, I will add tags as I go, M/M, OT3, The Odamas Fleet, Yersinia, gratuitous use of horizontal line breaks, mentor/mentee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-04-23 02:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14322756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abra_ca_fuck_you/pseuds/Abra_ca_fuck_you
Summary: And the Yersinia grew around them, became a home around them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so fond of these men and we didn't get see enough of them and also theres hardly any fanfic for them and all of the above breaks my heart because I haven't been able to stop thinking about Diego just being simultaneously pissed off at, jealous of, and crushing on both Hudson and Augustus. 
> 
> This hasn't been betaed, but if someone wants to volunteer that'd be real fuckin sick because I need more friends in this fandom anyways.
> 
> But yeah this fic happened because I have a bad habit of loving secondary characters. (But I earnestly feel that the Odamas Fleet got screwed over screentime wise (jk I love you Austin (I understand it wasn't really in your control where the game went)))

Diego first admitted his attraction, shortly after one of their first victories.

“Oh no. You deserve someone young and beautiful, like you, Diego,” Captain Hudson said, and took the whiskey from his hands.

“But you’re not old or ugly,” He said, and watched Hudson take a slug of his drink.

“Regardless of whether or not I’m old or ugly, you’re still young and beautiful.” Diego rolled his eyes and reached for his drink again. Captain Hudson stood up, and patted Diego on the shoulder, “I promise you can do better than me.”

It was that night, that Captain Hudson was awarded a gorgeous red jacket by one of the seamstresses living with the fleet. And Diego watched, pouting internally, sipping his whiskey externally.

He admires Captain Hudson one last time, admires his grace and leadership, his height and his strength and his eyes.

* * *

When Diego first walks into the infirmary, he’s confident. He saw some real talent in that boy, something they couldn’t just let slip by.

Diego’s a theatrical man, and fucked with Augustus a bit, made him cry a bit. He thought about his own recruitment, in a bed like this one, though hooked to a couple more machines, with Captain Hudson looming over head. Hudson gave him a new name, a new future. He would do the same for Augustus.

But Hudson swooped in, cut him off, ended his fun.

Augustus agreed. Of course he did, because if he didn’t, Diego could pick him up, and Diego could drop him off the the side of the Yersinia.

But Augustus did well with the Odamas Fleet. His rigger, named Summer, fought under the watchful eye of the Rose. And Diego was impressed.

And the Yersinia grew around them, became a home around them. And finally, the Yersinia became a factory around them, and in that factory they made Riggers. And Augustus knew Riggers the best. And he became an officer. He’d never been an officer before/

He trained new pilots and directed old ones, and he worked with Hudson to incorporate the Riggers in their strategies.

And Diego wasn’t jealous of him.

They all eat together in the mess hall. The families and the military and the kids and the officers.

And that means Augustus eats with Diego and Hudson.

Hudson sat next to Augustus. But that didn’t matter, Diego could sit across from them and see both their faces.

Augustus sometimes still struggles to meet Diego’s eyes, but Hudson’s unseen hand patting his back reassuringly spurs him on.

“Uhm Rose, I’ve got some red wine squirreled away in my room I think you might be interested in.”

“Perhaps you should invite the good captain too?”

Hudson seems surprised, eyeing Diego with an eyebrow quirked.

Dinner is good, simple chicken and rice, but Augustus paused his eating.

“No, no, I’m going to be turning in early. You two have your fun,” Hudson says, wiping the corners of his mouth on his napkin, “Don’t let an old man slow you down,” he stands up, smiling.

“You’re just as spry as the day we met,” Diego said to his back, as it disappeared into the crowded cafeteria.

* * *

Augustus has taken after Hudson these past months. He’s taken on a similar brand of confidence. The quiet confidence of a man who knows he’s good at what he does.

Diego never managed to pick that up. His confidence is braggadocious, because in his sleeve is only a trick, and behind his back is a fleet.

That’s why Diego is the face of the Odamas. Only a shrewd judge understands Hudson’s confidence, but even the densest can see why Diego should be feared. And that’s why Diego’s not afraid of Augustus.

* * *

And there was no lie, when they arrive at Augustus’ room, Augustus dives under his bed, and with the sound of ripping velcro, a bottle of red wine rolls out.

Diego stops it with his foot. And when Augustus turns around, the cork is already impaled on the corkscrew that hangs from a belt on Diego’s hip. He wears the chatelaine everywhere. And when Diego walks, the tools jingle, the corkscrew against his keys against his little silver rose charm.

* * *

There’s a soft “pop” as Diego wrenches the cork free, and Augustus can’t help but watch the work of his biceps against his shirt. Diego flicks the cork off the screw with his thumb, and it lands somewhere in the room

Diego offers the bottle to Augustus first. Augustus takes it, and guides them both to sit on the creaky couch bolted to the floor and wall.

Diego leans back, and the coach complains the whole way, especially when he throws an arm over the back of the couch.

“Any particular reason I was invited here?”

“Just wanted to share a drink with my favorite officer,” Diego’s not looking at Augustus, but he can imagine the flush that arises when he says that.

“And does Hudson know that?” Despite the question, Diego is asking with a smile.

“Is there anything he doesn’t know?”

Diego shakes his head and looks away. Augustus takes a swig and passes the bottle into Diego’s hand. Some footsteps pass in the hall outside.

* * *

The wine tastes acidic and alcoholic above all else. But it’s nevertheless a welcome break from the whiskey usually found hidden in a soldier’s room.

Augustus had consulted the older apostolosian who ran the liquor store, “I want something good, to impress him, but also strong enough to take the edge off.” The apostolosian nodded, and led him down an aisle.

* * *

 They talk about formation concepts, how their teams can cooperate better. But then the conversation devolves into pithy observations on the interpersonal relationships of their team members. And then into comments on the wine, on the turbulence the Yersinia felt lately.

* * *

“Why didn’t you ever take a new name?” The question breaks something in the mood, something suffocating that had taken over after Augustus said something and Diego hummed in response. The way Diego asks, it’d been eating him for a while.

Augustus furrowed his brows, “I didn’t really... need to. Or want to, for that matter.”

“I just,” Diego leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “for me it was a chance to leave everything behind, and I got to be my own man for the first time.”

“Well, I never asked for this chance.” Diego turns and looks at Augustus, confusion in his eyes. “I didn’t really want to start over,” Augustus continues, “I thought I did pretty well the first time.”

“Working for Horizon?” Diego asked.

“It paid, and my family was safe.”

“You didn’t have a cause.”

“I didn’t need one.”

“And you were just content? with a rigger and an enemy?”

“And a family to visit on holidays, a quilt on my bed.”

Augustus’s bed has grey sheets, and a grey blue comforter with uniform stitches across it. His room bears few personal items. A portrait of him, his sister, and his mother in a simple black frame on his bedside, a leather glasses case sits in front of it, and a fluffy red hoodie hanging off a hook over the bed.

Diego would have expected Augustus to be more at home on the Yersinia.

Diego sighs, “There’s a woman, I don’t know if she still stays on the Yersinia. But she’s a fantastic seamstress.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about-“

“She made Hudson’s coat.”

“And you think she’d...”

“She made this, too,” Diego says, and gestures to his belt. The leather is finely stitched, as well as the pouch, and the ribbons that hang from beneath it have a beautiful gold tone, in contrast to his stark silver tools.

Augustus’s gaze crosses Diego’s lap. The lowest button of his shirt has come undone, and the thumb on his other hand is tucked into his pocket. The dark red of his polish shines in the low light of Augustus’s room.

“It wouldn’t be the same.”

“It’s worth a try.” It would at least help with how cold Augustus’s toes get at night.

“Wouldn’t solve the family problem.”

Diego makes eye contact with Augustus, his voice taking a strangely stern tone “That’s your job. The whole Odamas fleet is a family. You just need to join us.”

Augustus thinks about Hudson’s warm hand on his back, and looks deeper into Diego’s dark eyes.

A shift in the ship makes the empty wine bottle roll off the couch. It’s sturdy glass doesn’t break, but the two men start and Diego takes it as a sign to make his leave.

“Think about what I said,” he says.

“Yes, I’ll talk to them, Captain.”

“You know what I mean.”

Augustus can’t discern the expression on Diego’s face as he closes the door.

* * *

There’s a fuzzy heat in Augustus’s chest. From the wine. And there’ll be a headache in the morning. From the wine. He sits on the floor, leaning against the wall, and bathes in the feeling, as the floor beneath him shifts with interstellar turbulence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to write, even if it's a bit disjointed. I enjoy fleshing out what daily life with the Odamas fleet would look and feel like.

In a life where it means nothing to take a picture, it means a lot to choose one to print, to pick one to see every single day. Most people settle on a shifting display, but Augustus only had one image to choose from.

When his neural link was severed with his old Rigger, it corrupted all the files on the hard drive he kept hanging around his neck, including all the pictures of his mother, his sister, his nephew (and all his favorite episodes of Hieron). It was just the one that could be restored.

It was on the same stop that he’d bought the wine, that Augustus stopped into a Kinkos to have it printed. The server recognized the loss behind his eyes, and offered a discount on simple animations.

“For only a half credit, we can make it so every time you pick it up, your mom will ruffle your hair.”

Augustus didn’t spring for it, his mom always liked his hair tidy.

Augustus already knew that when you live on a ship, all your belongings need to be bolted down. Now especially, because on this particular trip, the Yersinia has been hitting more turbulence than usual.

Augustus can’t pick up the picture anymore, but he had it mounted on the wall so that when he woke up he was face to face with them.

The picture is a few years old, from before his nephew was born. His sister had such long hair then, and she straightened it every morning. At least she did when he was home. But Augustus liked her with short curly hair, she looked more like their mom that way. And Augustus liked how his nephew would giggle when he pulled on it and saw it spring back into place.

* * *

The woman who emerged from the depths of the Yersinia, Jillian Redd, gives Augustus scathing looks sometimes, like she knows more than anyone else. Diego doesn’t seem to like her much either. When they walk side by side through the cafeteria, Diego turns to shield Augustus from her gaze. He still knows it’s there.

Sometimes when they get drunk, more often in Diego’s room now, Diego will complain about her. Mentioning the things she said in the officer’s meetings that Augustus shouldn’t’ve been sleeping in.

“The last thing she remembers is being Horizon’s property, and she thinks she knows how things here operate?” Diego’s legs are across Augustus’s lap, and he rubs Diego’s knees that still ache from a botched cyberware surgery. Diego rarely lets people touch him, Augustus notices. Or maybe it’s just Augustus that he rarely lets touch him. But Augustus knows how his knees hurt, and is happy to oblige.

“Odamas is so different from Horizon,” Augustus says. He almost wishes Hudson was there to take the burden off him to converse. But he wouldn’t be able to get a word in around Diego. That’s how it is at meals at least.

“Cheers to that,” Diego says, holding up his glass. It’s gin tonight, with tonic from the mini fridge in his room. The glasses are his too, but Augustus can tell that if they were dropped, they’d bounce.

* * *

Augustus was approached by an imposing figure one day at lunch, while Diego and Hudson, his usual lunch companions, were off ship.

Jillian Redd had only emerged a few days ago. She looked down on Augustus, because she was standing and he was sitting. “Officer Foxglove,” she greeted him.

“Jillian, sit,” Augustus said, and gestured for the seat across from him with his fork. She sat, her knees bumping uncomfortably against the table.

“I was unaware that we were on a first name basis.”

“It seems everyone in the fleet is,” Augustus replies shrugging.

Jillian’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Did you know me? At Horizon?”

“We were in different units, but everyone certainly knew of you,” Augustus followed the statement with a bite of potato salad.

“Could you tell me about me? About then?”

Augustus paused, and bit his sandwich before continuing, “You loved music, I think Aria Joie was your favorite? Or maybe people were joking when they said that.” Jillian nodded at him to continue, “And you were always with another woman, I think you were put together in the same way or something. Jacqui Greene. And you two often went on missions with Territory Jazz.”

“Junior? The child?”

“No, her father. I think she’s latched onto you because of that, someone must’ve told her,” Augustus shrugged.

“Do you know anything else?” From the way Jillian folded her hands, Augustus sensed that she was looking for something else.

“Not really, I was just one pilot of many, Jillian. I was never honored with the chance to meet you.”

Jillian laughed, “And now you outrank me." 

“Only because Odamas will never recognize most of your badges.” 

“Thank you, Augustus,” she looked into Augustus’ blue eyes, but she didn’t find the expected kindness.

“Go get yourself some lunch, Jillian.”

* * *

“Where’s Diego? He wasn’t at breakfast either,” Augustus says as he sits at their usual table. Hudson is picking a piece of lunch out of his teeth with one long claw.

“Probably sick.”

“No he’s not,” Augustus replied too quickly, “I uh,” Augustus hopes Hudson doesn’t notice him flush, “I already checked the infirmary.”

“Course he’s not there, he never goes there. He’s probably in his room with his door locked, hoping I’ll come visit,” Hudson flicks something off his claw, “probably will, after the officer’s meeting, so I can brief him.”

“Do you think he’ll mind if I stop by?”

“Not at all,” Hudson says, and puts his leftover apple on Augustus’s plate, “But he’ll pretend to.”

“Huh.”

“Don’t mind it though, he does want the company, just doesn’t want to admit it,” Hudson folds his hands. “Anyways, I want you to talk about your thing at the meeting.”

“Diego?”

“No no, the thing you were talking about this morning, the garden thing.”


End file.
